


Inhibitions

by BG97



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Class Struggle, Consent Issues, Crying, Degradation, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Motion Sickness, Mud, Rich Lee Minho, Semi-Public Sex, Unsafe Sex, Vomiting, car sickness, sugar baby hyunjin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25770250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BG97/pseuds/BG97
Summary: Hyunjin rests his hand over his stomach as Minho takes a curve a bit more sharply than necessary.A thought flits across his mind to tell Minho to stop the car, but it comes too little, too late.Alternatively: Hyunjin's date with Minho doesn't go according to plan*** Please read the tags and author's note ***
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 10
Kudos: 116





	Inhibitions

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome!
> 
> This fic comes with some heavy disclaimers so please bear with me for a moment before you read.
> 
> I don't like using 'Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings', but in this case, I felt they would cause more confusion than they would prevent, so I need you all to read my disclaimers, instead.
> 
> This fic involves a rather graphic vomiting scene, first of all. If you missed that tag, and you know that's not something you can be here for that's completely fine! It's pretty central to the story, so this fic just isn't for you; I'll catch you on the next one!
> 
> Next, this fic falls into some pretty morally dubious areas and the consensual nature of the actions that take place isn't perfect. Hyunjin experiences some intense emotional distress and may also have suffered an injury depending on how the reader chooses to interpret a point in this fic. As such, in real life, Hyunjin's ability to give consent is likely impaired and it's somewhat complicated, then, whether or not we can trust when he gives consent in this fic. It's frankly a gray area, and while I don't think the situation is dire enough to necessitate a noncon warning at this time, I'd respect anyone who requests I add it.
> 
> In addition, there's very little negotiation before the sex scene - which is rather rough, edging on violent, and any aftercare is not described. This is not at all to be taken as a guide of safe and okay sex practices - do not do this; communicate thoroughly with your partner(s), especially if anyone is exhibiting distress, and always care for them afterward.
> 
> Man, okay, all that being said, I hope anyone still here enjoys

Hyunjin loves getting dolled up.

He loves taking his time in the shower, painstakingly cleaning every inch of his body - inside and out, and lovingly massaging his Special Occasion oils and lotions into his freshly shaved skin. He loves meticulously filing his nails into perfect, rounded arches, carefully swiping on layers of a pretty neutral color until it can pass as gel even under close inspection.

He loves gently pinning his long hair, silky smooth from the treatments and conditioners he’d let it soak in, away from his bare face and settling in front of their bathroom mirror to begin the long and meditative process of perfecting his makeup.

He loves the soft, elegant voice of the ‘School of Affluence’ host humming through his speakers and seeping under his skin and into his bones.

It’s transformative, and Hyunjin finds a specific kind of beauty and grace in the process.

“Who’s this for?” Hyunjin glances back at Jisung as his roommate crosses his arms over the back of the rickety bar stool Hyunjin had dragged into the bathroom, making it screech in protest with the added weight. He used to be more alarmed by noises like that, but his brain has become pleasantly desensitized over the year or so the three of them had lived together.

There’s not a piece of furniture in their apartment that didn’t come into their possession after first being abandoned on the street or pawned off by some desperate middle-aged man trying to clear out his hoarder mother’s home.

He’s pretty sure these were a classic alleyway, ‘finders keepers’ type situation. Felix has an especially good eye for those. 

Felix has always been really good at seeing the potential in things…

People, too. 

“Wanna see?” Hyunjin asks, shooting Jisung’s reflection a smirk. 

It seems to pique the younger man’s interest, his eyebrows pulling up to hide behind the beanie he always wears too low. “That good, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.” Hyunjin grins, letting his compact puff fall soundlessly into the pile of makeup he’d collected in the sink - it’s not like they have counter-space.

The dating app profile is still open, and Hyunjin squirms gleefully as he swipes to the first picture to hand back for Jisung’s perusal. The chair shrieks for mercy under him, but neither boy bats an eye. It’ll hold him…

Probably.

Jisung’s fingers are clammy against Hyunjin’s freshly pampered and manicured hand as he takes the phone. An impressed little curse brushes past his lips and Hyunjin beams even brighter at his own reflection, half watching Jisung’s eyes grow wider and wider as he flips through the pictures and half analyzing his own features.

The lighting is too yellow and musty for anything to look truly flattering, but it catches the subtle dewy finish of his foundation nicely and makes his precisely lined and shaded eyes look even more striking, stunning.

He doesn’t look like he belongs here, sitting in front of Jisung’s goofy silhouette, surrounded by buzzing, faded lights full of dead and still-twitching bugs that none of them know how - or have any will - to clean.

Hyunjin tilts his chin up further, eyes locked on his own in the mirror.

He’s hot, and he deserves the man in those pictures.

It’s a thrilling little thought that can’t even be stifled by Jisung’s too-loud snort when he realizes what Hyunjin’s doing.

“You’re so fucking vain.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin sighs with a smile, studying the soft glow of his freshly lotioned chest in the mirror and debating whether or not a little highlighter on his collar bones would be trashy, “for good reason.”

“Jesus,” Jisung snorts, reaching up to flick one of the glittery, pink Dollar Tree barrettes pinning his hair back, “don’t get sloppy, tonight.”

Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrow in mock-offence, his gaze meeting Jisung’s so he can level him with his most petulant expression. “When have I _ever_ gotten sloppy on a first date?”

He swears Jisung’s brows end up somewhere in his hairline. 

He’s so easy to rile up.

“Hey, Felix!” Hyunjin winces, leaning forward over the chipped ceramic sink to get away from Jisung’s way-too-fucking-loud voice. It doesn’t help. “Hyunjin just asked when he’s ever gotten sloppy on a first date!”

Felix’s soft footsteps pad over their industrial, low-ply carpeting, and Hyunjin manages to turn his face towards him just as his blond head pops around the corner. His baggy work shirt is half unbuttoned, but Hyunjin still has to force himself to look away from how it hangs off his frame. 

He focuses on returning his pretty smile, instead, as Felix takes in the scene.

“Do you remember Changbin?” Oh, ouch.

“Et tu, Lix?” Hyunjin whines, a dramatic pout quickly replacing his smile, but it’s hard to maintain when Felix’s eyes crinkle up with his laugh.

It’s impossible to stay mad at Felix.

“There was that other one… Jaehyung or something like that?” Never mind. Felix Lee is evil and he gets a blending sponge half-assedly thrown at him for his troubles.

He just keeps giggling, retreating from the room. “You’re lucky I have to go to work, I could do this all night!” he singsongs as he disappears back into the greater apartment space.

Hyunjin groans, rolling his eyes. He stares at the faint silhouette of a mosquito buzzing in the light fixture to ground himself, again. “I really don’t need that negative energy around me right now.”

Jisung snorts behind him. “Whatever, you’re paying me back for that shirt.”

Hyunjin scoffs, rolling his eyes. The cheap plastic containers filling their sink clatter obnoxiously as he rifles around for the pretty warm-toned highlighter that’ll accentuate his natural tan and the decidedly unnatural golden tones in his bleached hair. “Yeah, I’m returning it tomorrow.”

“I mean it, dude, don’t fuck it up.” Hyunjin frowns and grabs a handful of little boxes coated in spilled powder to dig through the bottom of the pile. Where the fuck is it? “I don’t know if my commission’s gonna get approved before rent’s due, we might be fucked this month.”

Hyunjin hums absentmindedly, peering down into the mess. He literally just used it the other night.

“Hyunjin, I’ll personally kill you with my own bare hands if your date’s the reason we end up homeless with evictions on our credit history for the rest of our lives.”

“Evictions don’t even go on your credit report, we checked in February when Felix was so sick, remember?”

Jisung looks like he might be ready to prematurely make good on his promise when Hyunjin glances back up at the mirror. “Unpaid rent does, you dick -”

“I already said I’m returning the shirt, I promise I’ll be careful,” Hyunjin huffs, flipping one last tiny plastic case over. He nearly smacks Jisung in the face when he lifts it over his head in victory, beaming pointlessly as he fumbles for his good blending brush next.

“Yeah, whatever,” his roommate snorts, blessedly leaving Hyunjin to finish his ritual in peace.

  
  


oOo

  
  


Hyunjin makes his Uber drop him off a solid handful of blocks short of the restaurant Minho picked out because he decided the car wasn’t nice enough and the odds his date would even see him leave it weren’t high enough to justify spending a few extra bucks on a longer ride.

It’s a nice night, a bit overcast with a breeze that flutters through the elegant silk blouse draped over Hyunjin’s torso. It costs more than his life is worth, but Hyunjin’s roommates are blessedly aware of the value the rich men who flit in and out of Hyunjin’s life can have for them all. It’s an investment for all parties…

And nothing makes Hyunjin feel more like a g-d than the way he turns heads in designer brands, striding down the city streets with a purpose, his long, meticulously styled hair fluttering behind him, the flashing LED lights glinting off the delicate chains lovingly cradling his neck and dripping from his ears.

He’d cried when Jisung told him he needed to pawn off the jewelry his last lover had gifted him, and even when Felix rallied and went back to work, he’d been sick over the offers upper middle class women online were giving him… but he couldn’t make himself part with them.

He tells himself it’s just another investment - just more pretty, flashy things to distract his dates from the everything else about him that screams he’s an imposter, that he doesn’t belong in their beautiful little world…

He’d tricked Chris for a long time, but almost every pretty thing from that point in his life is gone now…

Hyunjin doesn’t like being honest with himself often, but if he did, he’d know that’s the real reason he’s held onto the precious stones and elaborate chains that could have fed and housed all of them single handedly for months if they were smart about it - and the three of them have gotten very good at being smart about it.

Chris was good, and Jinyoung before him was even better, but it’s taken some time to find another man willing to pretend not to notice the way Hyunjin fumbles through conversation and dodges any questions about himself with pretty, meaningless words.

Minho could be perfect, and Hyunjin can be perfect, too, if that’s what it takes.

He casually tucks his sleek strands back behind his ear, pinching the soft tendril of little baby hairs falling into his face to make sure they’re placed exactly where he wants them, and brushes his fingers over the looping silk bow falling down the length of his shirt to center it - all in one smooth motion, before flashing the door man a pleasant smile and entering the restaurant without breaking stride.

Walking into the elegant entranceway of the restaurant is like walking into another world, and the thought isn’t inaccurate. Everything is sleek, geometric, modern-minimalist, white and black with bright blue accent pieces in wavy designs placed strategically through the semi-open floor plan, everything illuminated in soft, inoffensive lighting… it’s a shock after the bright, dirty streets, but a welcome one. 

Even the air tastes clean in a way he so rarely experiences.

The hostess looks like she stepped off a runway somewhere, and Hyunjin doesn’t miss the way her eyes flick down the lines of his body before meeting his gaze with a professional smile. He holds his head high and doesn’t falter for a second.

This is the easy part, where he needs nothing but his g-d complex and sky-high ego to look like he belongs.

The only person he really needs to worry about impressing is his date, and when he’s lead to a quiet, private table, and meets the man he’s been talking with for the past week or so, Hyunjin’s first thought is that Minho’s pictures didn’t do him justice.

He’s literally stunning.

Shiny, dark hair falling effortlessly across his forehead, skin sunkissed and glowing in the soft lighting, thick eyelashes framing his sharp gaze, soft pink lips that seem as though they’re curled perpetually upwards at the corners, smart clothing teasing at the strong body Hyunjin can already picture finding beneath by the end of the night…

Hyunjin wants him.

Minho’s smart and teasing, but still warm underneath it all, and Hyunjin likes the way he looks at him, like he can’t tear his eyes away, stealing peeks over the top of the wine list.

Minho gestures lazily to his top, that small, mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Was I not worth bringing out the newest collection?”

Hyunjin feels his smile pinch up before he can stop it. 

He did his research and walked into the store to buy the blouse, himself. It’s absolutely from the most recent collection. Hyunjin might be dumb, but he’s not going to spend more than the deposit on their apartment on an outdated shirt, even if he knows he’ll be returning it; that’d completely defeat the point -

And as this all flashes through his mind, he catches Minho’s grin widening as he’s watched.

“I’m joking, Hyunjin.” His gaze flicks across the younger man’s face, down to the exposed patch of skin on his chest. “It looks good on you.”

Hyunjin forces himself to relax, let out what he hopes is a believable little laugh. “You had me confused for a moment.”

Minho lifts his wine glass to his lips, and the motion just draws attention to the knowing smile on his face.

Hyunjin might have been disappointed to have his game unravelling before the first course even arrives, but he’d already learned that he can get rather far on being pretty and amusing - if nothing else - after the illusion fades, and he can tell Minho wants him.

Jinyoung had clocked him on the first date, too, and still kept him around and pampered for months.

And worst case, he’ll get a lovely dinner for his time…

But Hyunjin’s never learned to fold when there’s still a pot on the table.

  
  


oOo

  
  


When Minho tells him not to call his ride at the end of the evening, he completely forgets to act coy, a victorious smile splitting his pretty face. Minho laughs, and it sounds like it might be a bit insulting, but Hyunjin's too high on his win to care.

He likes that Minho’s a little mean to him, that he keeps bringing up topics Hyunjin’s only read about on Wikipedia and saying blatantly false things just to see if Hyunjin catches them.

It’s very obvious that they aren’t playing for the same stakes, and that Minho’s game is specifically designed to be at Hyunjin’s expense, but still… it’s nice to not play alone.

And even despite the meanness, Minho’s funny, and his smile kind of takes Hyunjin’s breath away. His confidence mixed with the sometimes immature rich boy mannerisms is a combination that Hyunjin’s found oddly attractive since forever, and it’s only maximized by Minho’s gorgeous face and the fit body hidden under his blazer.

He doesn't know how to convincingly talk stocks or sailing with Minho's trust fund friends, but he can give this stunning, privileged man the fuck of his life and, at the end of the day, that's the only thing he can imagine mattering.

Everything's going exactly as he planned.

He lets his fingers trail teasingly along the inside of Minho’s thick bicep as they make their exit, catching their reflections in a sleek mirror on the way.

They look good together, and Hyunjin revels in that.

And he continues reveling when Minho holds the door for him and intertwines their hands as they head down the sidewalk. He likes that the older man is shorter than him, that he has to cut his strides earlier than usual to not pull ahead, that his soft palm is almost swallowed by Hyunjin’s.

Minho makes an annoyed comment about how it must have rained while they ate; Hyunjin glances down at his sleek, pointed toe, black leather oxfords and distracts himself trying to guess how expensive they are.

Hyunjin’s own are from the clearance rack, but he likes to think they don’t look it.

Minho’s car is sleek and immaculate, and Hyunjin might only be able to identify the brand from a quick glimpse at the sterling logo, but he’s gotten good at identifying value in things like this, and the smart leather seats, and warm, dark chestnut detailing screams luxury. 

It’s the kind of car you worry about leaving fingerprints on, and Hyunjin quickly decides it’s one of the most revealing things he’s seen of Minho this evening as he settles delicately back onto soft leather, conscious of the wrinkles he might be pressing into his shirt.

Minho slides into the driver’s seat beside him, shooting him another mischievous smile as his dark eyes drag over the lines of Hyunjin’s body in a way that makes him shiver.

When his hand reaches out, Hyunjin thinks he might kiss him.

Instead, his fingers settle at the top of his spine, right over the neckline of his shirt…

Right where the tag that he’d been ignoring all evening was settled between airy silk and his sensitive skin.

His breath catches, waiting for Minho to call him out, laugh at him, kick him out of his gorgeous car, but he just smirks, smoothing the tag back down against his rapidly flushing skin.

  
  


oOo

  
  


When Hyunjin agreed to go home with Minho, he’d been expecting to pull around the block to one of the fancy high-rise apartments in the ritzy district they were already in.

It’s not until the twinkling lights of the skyline are behind them, the congested night time traffic of the city fading away as they continue to drive, that Hyunjin is able to talk himself into asking where Minho lives.

The ‘School of Affluence’ host had told him that was a faux pas, but he figures there’s a point where the ‘American Psycho’ atmosphere makes it appropriate.

As it turns out, Minho lives approximately… 73 lightyears (give or take) outside of the city limits.

In reality, the drive can’t be more than twenty minutes, but it feels like a lifetime in Minho’s too-pristine car. He can feel his silk shirt wrinkling by the second, and every mile marker they pass comes with lovely little intrusive thoughts like ‘there is no estate’, ‘you have less than an hour to live, Hwang Hyunjin’, ‘maybe he won’t murder you if you give him road head’, ‘he’s much more likely to murder you if you try to give him road head’, ‘do you want to die without ever giving someone road head?’

It’s fun. 

It’s great.

Minho smirks when he tells him about his roommates; Felix’s multiple serving jobs become ‘customer relations’ and Jisung’s inconsistent commercial jingle commissions make him a ‘music producer’. He’d heard somewhere once that people were less likely to kill you if they knew more about you… but that also doesn’t seem to mesh with the domestic homicide statistics…

Maybe Hyunjin should just shut up.

He’s never been good at that.

“Relax, we’re about five minutes out.”

Hyunjin doesn’t relax.

It’s been miles since they saw another car and each second the nerves in his stomach become even more aggressively insistent.

Best case, Minho fucks him in his remote mansion and Hyunjin’s stuck footing an exorbitant Uber bill - if they’ll even come this far past the city limits.

Maybe that thought shouldn’t make his stomach roll just as much as the murderer thoughts do, but the math just isn’t playing out right in his head and he can’t handle another overdraft fee on his account.

They hit a pothole and Hyunjin’s wine and rich, fancy food filled stomach is not a fan.

He swallows consciously and makes himself lean back in his seat. 

Felix will help him get the wrinkles out later.

Speaking of… Hyunjin doesn’t like texting in front of dates but he makes an exception to send Felix his location with a ‘just in case!!! love you lol’. Felix should be off work in a few hours and if Hyunjin hasn’t sent him an all clear by then it’s probably a good time to panic, but knowing Jisung, the poor kid would spiral into an anxiety attack all alone in their apartment within minutes.

A few moments later he hits send on a screenshot of Minho’s profile, too…

‘Just in case, lol’

Somehow the precautions don’t make him feel better.

Hyunjin rests his hand over his stomach as Minho takes a curve a bit more sharply than necessary.

A thought flits across his mind to tell Minho to stop the car, but it comes too little, too late.

There's a moment Hyunjin knows all too well.

It's the sudden flood of watery spit drowning his tongue that instantly feels too big and wrong in his mouth, the almost tingly and almost rolling sensation in his gut, the rush of heat and pressure that makes him too aware of his face.

It happens too fast.

In this moment, Hyunjin doesn't have time for embarrassment.

In this moment, Hyunjin doesn't think about the almost hundred thousand dollars that this car had to have put Minho back.

In this moment, Hyunjin doesn't think about his pride.

He manages to slap a clammy hand on his date's sleeve, but he doesn't register the jerky swerve they make across the median lines in response.

Hyunjin isn't even given enough warning to lean forward before his abdomen is cramping and the most rancid, vile taste is filling his mouth and gushing from between his lips and out his nose, instantly soaking the silk against his chest and splashing onto his Good Dress Pants and Minho's custom leather interior.

Minho cusses loudly but Hyunjin can't process anything over the ringing in his ears or his own pathetic sob as red wine and the weird, too-fancy food he'd managed to get down earlier streams over his chin.

The car jerks noisily and violently over the rumble strips before shrieking to a halt that locks Hyunjin’s seat belt at the same time a second wave hits him with a choking, retching sob, splashing slickly into his lap.

Minho slams his hand on the hazards button.

“Sorry - I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry -”

The door slams behind Minho, leaving Hyunjin to sob in the dark, throat burning, a shaky hand pressed over his disgusting mouth in a feeble attempt to hold anything else that might try to come up in.

He can’t fucking think, can barely breathe - the thick stench is choking him and making his stomach roll more furiously with each inhale. He’s scared to move, scared to look down.

His entire front is wet, rapidly cooling in the air conditioning and just giving him another reason to tremble against the slick leather seats.

What the fuck did he do?

Panic slices through him when his car door is ripped open, terrified eyes, dripping with tears, meeting Minho’s cold gaze for just the second that he’s illuminated by the blinking hazard lights before the man is cussing, leaning down and unbuckling Hyunjin’s seat belt.

In his moment of terror, he tries to grab the center console, tries to get leverage, a grip, anything to keep Minho from pulling him from the car and making him even more vulnerable, but his hands are slick with his own mess and the older man is too strong.

Hands twist in his shirt and yank him bodily through the door with little trouble.

His ass hits the pavement hard, pain shooting up from his tailbone, gravel embedding itself in his filthy palms, but it’s the relatively soft noise of silk stitches tearing that echoes in his brain.

His shirt.

His fucking -

It’s like a horror scene.

They’re in the middle of nowhere and the only lights are the harsh, blinking hazards on either side of them.

The poor, yellow lighting does nothing to obscure the massive pink stain down the front of his previously beautiful and pristine white shirt as it pops rhythmically in and out of sight.

“Are you fucking done?” Minho’s voice is jarring in the night air, interrupting the weak pants and choked off sobs leaving Hyunjin’s body.

He rolls over and heaves against the pavement, his stomach cramping up violently and his lungs burning - everything burns, his mouth, his nose, his throat, his skin.

Saliva spills over his lips in a near constant stream, and his guts continue to shudder with nausea, but nothing else comes up. He has a moment of almost peace before the taste, the scent, the feeling of the vomit coating his body hits him again and he’s lost for several more seconds, retching over the filthy concrete.

“Jesus,” Minho grunts, and Hyunjin sobs, trying to curl in to protect himself. 

It’s futile.

His hand fists in Hyunjin’s hair, yanking him back upright, pain ripping through his scalp, until he’s back on his sore ass and can feel the heat of Minho’s body behind him. He has a split second to feel confused and panicked and scared -

And then the fingers of Minho’s free hand are shoving through the open cavity of Hyunjin’s disgusting mouth, jamming into the back of his throat and choking him.

He’s hardly processed what’s happening before he’s keeling forward and losing another wave of rancid stomach acid over Minho’s manicured hand and onto his body and the pavement below.

He sobs and shudders, trying to twist away from the older man, but it’s hopeless. He has only seconds before Minho’s dirty fingers are pushing back through his lips and forcing another series of painful retches from his body.

Over and over.

He loses track of how many times Minho sends his body into dry heaving fits before he’s shoved unceremoniously away, his torn hands landing in the puddle of his own mess for balance.

He can’t control his sobbing.

Everything hurts so fucking much, and any part of him that doesn’t hurt is sticky and disgusting. 

His hair is plastered to his face, caught between his lips.

He can feel vomit soaking into his nice underwear.

He can’t fucking think.

“What the actual fuck was that?” It was hot when Minho cussed at dinner, but now the icy disgust and anger in his voice slices through Hyunjin.

“I’m -” G-d his fucking _throat_. He tries to swallow some of the excess saliva still drooling over his lips but it makes him ten times more aware of the taste in his mouth and he just ends up gagging on it, again. “I’m sorry -”

“You’re sorry?” Minho laughs, it’s an ugly, cruel sound, “you fucking threw up all over my car and that’s all you can fucking say for yourself?”

Hyunjin tries to curl in on himself, but he can’t even stand touching his own body right now. "Let me... make it up to you -"

"Make it up to me?" Hyunjin forces himself to look up at his date, and can’t stop the pathetic little noise that croaks from his sore throat when he sees Minho’s handsome face twisted up mean and cruel, "what on earth could you possibly have to offer after that?"

Hyunjin balks. Fresh tears stream from his swollen eyes. He can't fucking think. "I -"

"Do you want me to fuck you, Hyunjin? Is that how you think you're going to make this better? When you look like this?"

Hyunjin flushes, heat and pressure rising to his face, and even after everything tonight, this is the thing that offends him. Something twists in his gut that isn’t nausea. "I'll get your fucking car cleaned, asshole."

The words come out croaky, pathetic; Hyunjin wants nothing more than to melt into the concrete.

A voice in his head reminds him that he’s broke. 

It’s entirely unhelpful.

Suddenly, Minho being a serial killer seems like the best case scenario.

He risks another glance up, trying to channel the last dredges of his wavering anger, the final slivers of his hurt pride; Minho’s eyes are cold, unimpressed. "Funny that you think you're in any position to speak to me like that."

And just like that, Hyunjin’s last string is cut and he ducks his head to hide the ugly way his face twists up when he cries… as if he has any dignity left to preserve.

There’s still stomach acid dripping from his nose.

"I'm… I'm sorry…"

"You’re fucking pathetic,” Minho spits, “g-d, why the fuck did you do that?”

A car speeds past them and the jarring noise, the rush of air on his shivering body, the bright headlights illuminating the fucking stains on his clothes -

It’s too much.

Hyunjin wants to scream, wants to rip his ruined clothes off his body, wants to take a bat to Minho’s stupid fucking car...

Instead, he lets his head hang low, filling his lungs with the stench coming from his mess.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he repeats, his voice small and broken.

He’s not sure what he expects… for Minho to take pity on him, maybe? To forgive him for having an accident?

He’s not sure, but neither happens.

Minho’s hand is still cold and wet from Hyunjin’s mouth when it tangles in his hair, and pain laces through his scalp as he’s tugged backwards, a broken, pitchy shriek tearing through his burning throat.

“Shut the fuck _up_.”

He can’t get his exhausted, shaky limbs to work fast enough, and more gravel cuts into his palms and pokes up into his knees with each attempt to catch his weight as Minho drags him across the concrete.

His breath catches when his hand lands wetly in a patch of muddy grass on the roadside, and it’s all the warning he gets before he’s shoved down the steep incline of the ditch, sore body rolling violently down the hill and landing hard at the bottom, knocking the wind from him.

For several seconds, he can’t get stock of his body, the stars swirling in the night sky above him from the lingering alcohol in his veins, cold rainwater seeping into the last remaining dry patches of his clothes.

When he turns his head, he catches Minho’s silhouette blinking in and out of sight with the hazards. He watches him roll his sleeves up and wonders vaguely where his blazer went in one second and if the last thing he sees is really going to be a muddy ditch in the next.

He turns back to the stars as they slowly settle into their spots in the night sky for him. 

Maybe it’s not such a bad view after all.

Hyunjin almost never gets to see the stars; how considerate of the universe to grant him this one little pleasure.

It’s almost enough to distract him from the lingering taste of vomit in his dry mouth, the shivers racking his sore muscles, how fucked his clothes are -

He’s distantly aware of Minho picking his way down the muddy slope, too graceful and put together.

The stars are just so, so beautiful tonight.

If Minho doesn’t kill him, he should bring Jisung and Felix out here to look at them; they’d absolutely love it, he just knows they would.

Polished oxfords squelch into the mud next to his head and Hyunjin winces at the sound on instinct; the starlight’s reflecting faintly off them, muted and dulled by distance and the imperfect leather surface.

“Are you ready to make it up to me?”

Hyunjin glances up but he can’t make out any of the handsome features of Minho’s face when he’s backlit like this. 

Minho’s so gorgeous… why did Hyunjin do that?

He wonders what he looks like, bathed in the light of the stars above, streaked in vomit and with mud caked in his hair; his makeup has probably bled across his face… 

Hyunjin wonders if Minho still thinks he’s pretty.

He hopes so.

“Will you -” Hyunjin coughs, his throat is made of sandpaper; it’s really killing the peaceful atmosphere, “will you fuck me?”

Minho snorts, a harsh sound, “do you want me to fuck you, Hyunjin?”

Does he?

Yeah, Hyunjin’s pretty sure he does. He’s wanted to fuck Minho since their first private messages, and now he doesn’t think Minho will want to take him back to his fancy house anymore… but that’s okay, Hyunjin already a mess and it’s just so, so very beautiful out here...

He just wants to watch his stars.

And maybe he wants to go home and shower and curl up on Felix’s bed until he gets home from work and can pet Hyunjin’s hair while he cries.

And maybe he wants to never have to look Jisung in the eye and admit how much he fucked up...

Maybe he wants a lot.

Minho fucking him sounds nice.

And Hyunjin doesn’t want Minho to be mad at him, anymore.

He misses his cute smile.

“Do you… want to fuck me?”

Minho huffs. The whites of his eyes keep fluttering in and out of view as he blinks. Hyunjin’s gaze tracks the faint outline of a tanned hand as it shifts to rest promisingly over the front of his nice slacks.

He’s hard, and that makes something warm and nice swell in his chest.

Hyunjin feels filthy, disgusting, desirable… when the pointed toe of Minho’s dress shoe pokes into his cheek, he moves with it, letting his stars slip from view and instead focusing on the pretty green grass tickling his skin. A cricket chirps nearby and cicadas shriek in the distance as his gorgeous date smears mud onto his irritated skin. It feels cool and nice.

Minho’s next huff sounds more like laughter than something angry.

“Get on your knees, pretty boy.” 

Hyunjin thinks the name is meant to be insulting, sarcastic… maybe, but he’s so tired and those words feel so nice right now… and Minho’s laugh when he smiles at the endearment blends prettily with the nature all around them. 

His wet shoe presses uncomfortably hard once before disappearing. 

Hyunjin’s smile doesn’t falter.

Minho thinks he’s pretty.

His hand sinks into the mud, and his head feels too heavy when he peels it from the wet grass. Everything feels heavy and sore, as if Hyunjin’s body had tried to become one with the Earth when he wasn’t paying attention.

Dirty rainwater runs down his silk shirt in streams, clinging to his skin, and when he drags a hand through his wet hair, it comes back caked in mud, burying his glinting rings in darkness.

Hyunjin feels wild.

He doesn’t realize how bad he’s shivering until warm fingers are grabbing at his dirty jawline and holding it still. When he looks up, craning his head all the way, he can just barely make out the features he’d been so smitten with at dinner.

“You’re not doing a very good job of convincing me you’re sorry,” Minho stage whispers, “I thought you wanted my forgiveness.”

Oh.

Right.

Minho crouches slowly, hand still warm and solid on his jaw, and, down here, Hyunjin can see him so much better.

Minho looks absolutely breathtaking under his stars.

“Hyunjin.” Minho’s tone startles him a little. Minho was mad, but then he called him pretty and then he was too slow, but now Hyunjin’s name sounds like salvation on his lips and - 

His head feels fuzzy and weird, and his body doesn’t feel like his own. It’s confusing, and Hyunjin just wants to get lost watching the constellations reflected in Minho’s eyes.

He doesn’t want to think or worry anymore.

Minho looks so incredibly beautiful right now.

“Pretty boy… you’re such a mess…” Hyunjin feels a chapped smile spread across his lips. 

He is a mess, but Minho still thinks he’s pretty.

“Do you want me to fuck you? Right here in the mud? Want me to make you even filthier?”

Hyunjin feels wild.

“Yes.”

Minho dilated pupils flick behind the vision of Hyunjin’s stars, like he’s searching for something on his face. 

Hyunjin doesn’t have any answers to find.

Minho’s laugh makes him feel forgiven for that.

When his date shoves him away, he lets his body fall, barely catching himself on his stinging hands. The mud clings to his dress pants, and it takes nothing less than a valiant effort to raise his hips from the ground and let his knees sink into it.

There’s something new and wonderfully filthy about the position, about the muddy water dripping from his hair where it hangs around his face, and the way his ruined clothes cling to his body.

The older man rewards him with a sharp slap over the wet fabric with enough force that Hyunjin’s arms give out. He collapses to his elbows and mud splashes up onto his face and into his mouth, making him sputter against the grass with a wicked smile.

Hyunjin misses his stars, but they glint all around him, caught on each dewy blade, and they’re still so beautiful.

The sound of seams ripping echoes through the night air, interrupting the crickets and cicadas, and it’s not until he feels a rush of cool air on his upturned ass that he processes what even happened.

A hoarse, hysterical laugh bubbles from between his dry lips as Minho tears his underwear, too, leaving his wet, slightly numb skin exposed.

Minho’s hands are too hot against it, but Hyunjin presses back into them all the same.

Everything feels wild, hollow, surreal, like the moment you realize you’re caught in a dream where nothing matters.

Except this matters.

This all matters so fucking much.

His ruined clothes, his shattered pride, the debt he’s put himself in -

It all matters so fucking much that he can’t even begin to understand it.

He stops trying.

When Minho’s thumb presses roughly against his rim, he moans and lets his silk-clad chest brush the mud below him. It’s cool against his burning skin.

Hyunjin’s expecting to get hurt, expecting to be fucked dry into the cold mud, is in the process of convincing himself he wants that, wants things to be as feral and fucked up as he feels, but it doesn’t come.

He’d recognize the sound of a lube bottle uncapping anywhere.

“Where -”

“My car,” Minho laughs, his warm hand rubbing circles over Hyunjin’s cold skin, making it tingle as it comes back to life, “I didn’t know if it’d be worth the trouble bringing you out here before we met…”

“Oh -” Hyunjin grins dopily, grass poking up into his dimples. “We should have just -”

“Yeah.” Minho’s hand comes down hard on Hyunjin’s bare ass, the sensitive skin lighting up under his palm, and the younger man’s forehead lands on the muddy ground as he moans long and loud. “I didn’t realize you were a fucking loser that’d puke all over my car.”

The mean words, the humiliation, the entire situation - none of it should be turning Hyunjin on, yet his dick is stirring in the shredded remnant of his good underwear, anyway.

Minho sinks two fingers in all at once and Hyunjin presses back against them, digging his own fingertips into the mud.

He thinks about the earth caked under his perfect nails and the contrast between him and Minho - the older man still so composed and put together as Hyunjin’s whole world falls apart as he’s scissored open in the middle of nowhere.

Even with the lube, it’s fast and brutal, and Hyunjin loves every second.

“Hit me again,” he croaks, his knees slipping a few more inches apart. He needs water, needs a bath, a warm bed - yet, all he wants is for Minho to fuck him into the glittering grass.

“Are you giving me orders now?” Minho jams a third finger in and spreads them harshly, and it’s not what Hyunjin asked for but the abuse makes something vicious and satisfied twist in his hollow gut.

He arches his back, mud smears wet and thick against his cheek. Warmth and pressure is building pleasantly in his gut as his body strains to take Minho’s rough treatment.

“Fuck me.”

A hand lands in his matted, muddy hair and Hyunjin barely manages to clench his eyes and mouth up tightly before his face is sinking into the wet earth. Slick fingers pop out of his sensitive ass with a lewd, wet noise and come down hard on his already sore and reddening skin.

“Are you that fucking desperate?” Hyunjin squirms, sucking air in frantically through his nose. It tastes like grass and mud. His dick twitches against his thigh.

He feels fucking desperate.

When Minho lets him up, he needs to peel his head from the ground once more, mud slipping through his hair and off his dirty skin to splat back onto the earth below. Everything’s heavy and wet and Hyunjin has never felt more disgusting in his life.

“Please -” He chokes, tasting earth on his tongue, compared with the sour vomit it’s replacing in his senses, it feels cleansing.

Minho’s fingers twist in his tangled hair and pull, lifting his face from the ground. Hyunjin can feel how it’s shape had become disfigured by the mud caked into his pores. The one eye not rendered useless by the filth finds his stars.

The older man fucks into him mercilessly, and there’s beauty in the way Hyunjin’s hoarse cries and Minho’s huffs blend into the chatter of nature all around them.

Minho fucks him like he hates him, and to Hyunjin that feels like love.

He doesn’t seem to care about the mud grinding into the rich fabric of his dress slacks or the filth that clings to his hands every time he grabs at Hyunjin’s body - he does it anyway.

Hyunjin thinks that’s nice.

He leans into the pain in his exhausted, abused body, and the pleasure building in his gut as he’s fucked, and he doesn’t even care when Minho cums before he can.

Hyunjin smiles up at his stars, earth staining his teeth, as Minho grabs bruisingly at his hips and cums with a shaky groan deep inside him.

When he’s pushed back into the mud, it feels soothing on his overheated skin. 

His muddy fingers press against the front of his ruined dress pants, breath hitching and stuttering as he grinds up into his palm.

He cums with Minho’s mean laugh ringing in his ears and his stars twinkling down onto him.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for making it to the end!
> 
> Comments and kudos always greatly appreciated! Let me know what you thought either on here, twitter, or cc <3
> 
> Twitter: [NoahBG97](https://twitter.com/NoahBG97)  
> CC: [BG1997](https://curiouscat.me/BG1997)


End file.
